The Warlord's Wife

by Sandra Lake

  “You are too young,” Lothair said in a low, raspy tone. “You are the jarl’s daughter. I do not want a wife.”

  “Who said anything about a wife?” She blinked rapidly, trying to catch her breath and figure out what she had done wrong.

  “You’re no more than a child.” He closed his eyes and jammed his fingers into his hair, looking up to the rafters of the stable. He looked like he wanted to pull his own hair out by the roots.

  “I am not a child! And you want me. You like me. I can tell you do by the way you look at me.” Her fingers tingled. They were cold and longed to reach out and touch the radiating heat of his chest.

  “What would you know? You’re naught but an innocent,” he said with mounting anger. Katia was defenseless to this blow. He was saying something that was actually considered an honorable truth by all, so why did it pierce her heart so keenly? Her eyes stung and the embarrassing urge to cry swept over her. He must have seen this and more because he quietly said, “Flickas like you believe in love. It is a stupid notion, love. It is not real. Only lust is real. This,” he pointed his finger back and forth between them, “this is lust. This is not lasting. It soon fades. Trust me.” His face softened, and he appeared somewhat regretful for his harsh tone. He kept the distance between them, but reached out to her, smoothing her hair behind her ear. “I say this not to be cruel. You should learn this lesson while you are still young. It will save you a lot of wasted time later. Especially when your father takes you back to the king’s court to put you on the market. Beware and heed my words, Katia.”

  Katia was dizzy from his rapidly changing demeanor, but she understood he was confused and probably a bit nervous. Boys tended to act angry when it was truly fear they were feeling.

  “You’re just a little scared, is all,” she said. “I completely understand. I used to be repelled by the thought of wanting a beau. You’ll change your mind. I did.”

  His fingertip rubbed gently behind her ear as he carefully secured her hair in place. She was breathless from his small touch, but continued. “I once swore I would never wed, but I now confess, I am warming to the idea. Being a wife isn’t as bad of a notion as I once thought it to be.”

  Shaking his head, he took a step back. “Go then. Go wed some Norwegian or Danish prince and bear him lots of little princes and princesses.”

  “I don’t want to wed a prince.” She frowned with at the revolting notion. “I don’t want to wed just anyone.” Being a wife had never appealed to her but . . . she wanted him, and she wanted him to want her. She wanted him to look at her and change his mind and want a wife. A heavy rock landed in the pit of her stomach. She knew that if he were to wed any other maid, Katia would hate that lucky girl with a violent passion.

  The truth of her feelings for Lothair wanted to rush out of her like steam from the kettle. She may not get another chance to be alone with him. She loved him, or at least she thought she did. This must be what love felt like. She summoned all her courage and looked up. “But if I have to wed, if I must one day be attached to a man, I want to wed someone that matters. Someone that wants to make a difference.”

  “No. Don’t look to me,” he said flatly, pointing his angry finger at her. “Go find someone else to set your scheming smiles upon. I’m never taking a wife. Wives are for politicians. I want none of it. No responsibilities, no one to hold me back, no one depending on me.”

  “I do not wish to hold any one back. I don’t need looking after by any man and especially not by a husband.” He had kissed her with his tongue—he may have said he didn’t want a wife, but that did not erase the fact that his tongue had been inside her mouth, proof that he did want her, or at the very least, his body wanted her, in a wifely kind of way. “Don’t you see, Lothair? This is exactly why you would be perfect for me.”

  ***

  Lothair glared down at the troublesome, beautiful girl. “Not perfect. Nowhere even close to perfect. I am a bastard, Kat. My life is a lie.” He blurted out the truth with the intention of scaring her away. It was dangerous to spill the duke’s secrets but he had no other choice. Katia was the most stubborn and determined girl he had ever met. He took in a sharp breath and prepared to do battle with her. He would need to wound her if necessary, though he already knew he would hate himself for it the moment it was done. He had let this . . . attachment go too far. “I need no other burdens to weigh me down.” There, he’d said it. She’d shrink away and find someone else to smile at now.

  “So, you are the duke’s son instead of his nephew. Who cares?” She shrugged.

  “Who told you?” he shouted. Thunder snorted and neighed, agitated by the aggression directed at his mistress.

  She shushed the beast and said softly, “Tis obvious to anyone that observes the duke looking at you. His pride and love for you can be seen across a crowded room.”

  “Hmph,” he snorted. That could’t be true. His father only ever looked at him to find fault. Someone must have said something.

  “Did you know that some of my favorite people are bastards?” Katia continued. “The jarl’s brother, my favorite uncle Hök, is a bastard. Five different guardsmen claim Tosha as their daughter, so strictly speaking, that makes her a bastard and she is my dearest friend. I have a half-brother in Lyyski, whom I’m very fond of. He’s also a bastard, and, for the first half of my life, some people in Turku called me a bastard, so . . .” She smiled again. This was a new smile, one he had not yet recorded to memory. The corner of her lip twisted up and her eyes sparked with a new flame.” . . . I think I was destined to kiss one. Don’t you think?”

  “No.” He wiped any emotion off his face and worked to hold onto his resolve. “I think you need to go up to the fortress.”

  “Pff . . . fine,” she said, her temper slipping through her flirtatious grin. “Be that way . . . for now.” Her lips curled into one of her consolation smiles. “I’ll just wait for you to change your mind. I hope you don’t keep me waiting too long though. I would like to get going and have some adventures of my own—see the world, do important things. But, that’s fine. I will wait for you to be ready and change your mind.”

  “I won’t change my mind. Do not wait for me. I won’t be back.”

  “Alright, Lothair. No need to shout and upset Thunder. I heard you.” She tried to grin but the expression washed away too quickly. “I know you want me,” she whispered. “Perhaps you want to be the one to woo me? I know some boys are like that. Want to be the hunter instead of the hunted.” She flipped her manner again and winked at him. “No worries. We shall play the game by your rules and see who wins out in the end. We both know who landed the first point in this round.”

  Popping up high on her toes, she threw her arms around his neck.

  She kissed him with bruising force, pulling away with a gasp, “That would be my second. You are shockingly slow with your defense, Lothair.” She giggled softly and tugged a hair ribbon from her sleeve. “Throw it away or keep it. I really don’t care.” Bouncing away with a skip in her step, she froze mid-step. Turning back around with a warning glare, she added, “Just don’t give it to another girl.”

  She winked at him and Lothair groaned, fully aware of his lack of defense. She was slaying him with her soft smiles, her sweet scent and fluttering eyelashes. If she kissed him again, he would be wed before the farewell feast.

  He looked down at the rose-colored silk ribbon. He had no clue how to respond. He scanned the inside of the pen and found the mighty horse alone, snorting at him with impatience.

  Had it all just been a tormenting dream?

  Sandra Lake lives with her husband and sons in Quebec, Canada.

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